


Hold On

by Mapal



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mapal/pseuds/Mapal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Things always come and go ... Wouldn't you rather have something and lose it, than never have it at all?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> So like... I'm total trash now for Elias/Anthony apparently so. This happened.
> 
> Blame talking2thesky

Harold first noticed it when he moved his knight into a tactical, sacrificial position right in the firing line of Elias' bishop. The right-hand man, Anthony, had sauntered into the room just a moment ago and was handing Elias a glass of water, leaning down low with his voice a hushed murmur against his boss' ear. Elias liked to play his cards close to his chest as much as Harold himself, but Harold did not miss the way their hands brushed and lingered on the glass, the way Elias' other hand wavered in the air like it wanted to reach for something other than the bishop.

“Your little situation is almost taken care of,” Elias said when Anthony moved away, his hand finally leaving the glass of water where their fingers had been almost entwined for the duration of their conversation. It was almost painfully obvious and Harold wondered how he had never seen it before. “Anthony is about to leave to assist John.”

Elias paused, took in the board with his fingers hovering over the bishop, much steadier now, and then moved his own knight to a challenging position against the rook that had been sneaking up one side of the board. Harold didn't react, pausing to sip at his tea as he surveyed his options. “Mr. Reese can handle himself,” he said airily.

“He is currently surrounded,” Elias answered without missing a beat. “But not for long.” If Harold were honest, he was glad of the aid. It felt strange to be down here, in a basement that had been adapted to a hideout, instead of at a monitor talking John through their mission, but things had taken an unusual turn.

Their covers had almost been compromised by an ex-CIA operative and they were just lucky that Elias had been monitoring the situation for his own reasons. Now Harold was in their safe-house and John had help on the way. “You have a lot of faith in him,” Elias said, a seemingly idle observation but then nothing was innocuous with him.

“He hasn't let me down yet,” Harold answered, using a rook to try to further force Elias' knight to move.

“I suppose we all need people we can trust.” Harold was blind-sided on the board, having forgotten about Elias' queen, mind pre-occupied. Suddenly his rook was gone and his knight was in grave danger. Harold let out a disgruntled huff and ignored Elias little smirk. He didn't enjoy losing.

~*~

The next situation was under rather more explosive circumstances. Harold had managed to keep his distance this time, watching John and Anthony through the monitors with Elias sat at his side. Nothing seemed to flap the mob boss, his demeanour always collected, but when a grenade was launched right into the bolt-hole where John and Anthony were hiding Harold couldn't miss Elias lurching forward in his seat.

He also couldn't miss the grumble of disdain as Anthony picked up the grenade and threw it back, the device exploding just feet from them. “How do you do it?” Elias said as he let out a long breath. Harold watched the screen, unflinching, as John returned fire. Harold's heart was racing, a lump tight in his throat, but he hid it carefully.

“How do I do what?” he answered, only glancing away briefly.

“Keep your distance.”

That was a peculiar question. Harold looked at Elias over the top rim of his glasses, body rotated a little, and then turned his attention back to the screen. “John is an adult, he can take care of himself,” he said, finding himself almost repeating his words from a few months ago.

“But you care?” Elias' curiosity seemed genuine but Finch kept quiet as he watched John lead the way from their cover and push down the hallway where they were pinned in. Elias didn't push any further, but Finch supposed his silence spoke louder than any words. Elias question was loud, too.

~*~

John sipped at his coffee and looked out over the city, the sun setting behind the skyscrapers and casting long shadows. It was peaceful, even with the distinct smell of a burning car wafting up from below them and the persistent _beep-beep_ of the fire alarm they had set off. He looked across at Anthony as the other man blew on the scalding hot cafeteria coffee.

“Well, this was fun,” John said with a smirk. Under Finch's watchful eye he had become a lot more subdued over the years, but there was still something very satisfactory about teaming up with someone like Anthony and blowing some stuff up. Anthony was a confident man with a surety about his every action, and a very grey moral area, and John could see why he was Elias' right-hand.

“A real blast,” Anthony muttered before taking a mouthful of his drink. John snorted and reached up to his ear piece to deactivate it for a while. Finch had gone quiet some time ago, anyway. If he wanted him, all he had to do was call. “How do you deal with that?” Anthony asked dryly, nodding in John's direction and indicating the earpiece.

“You get used to it,” John answered with a shrug. At first it had been intrusive, Finch listening in all the time and hearing everything. In the end, the knowledge that Finch was always so close, just a breath away, was pleasant. The voice on the other end of the line no longer startled John.

“Not sure I could,” Anthony said, huffing and looking out over the city. They were sat right on the edge of the roof of an apartment block, Anthony straddling the wall with one leg dangling over the street. John was a little less daring, both feet planted on the roof. If Finch was watching the feeds and John dared to dangle in such a way, he was sure he would be berated for hours.

“Being close is one thing, but don't you ever think he's listening all the time?” Anthony added after a few moments of silence. John thought about it for a moment, watched a line of cars edge forwards at the stop light, and then shrugged again.

“Used to bother me, pretty sure he could watch every minute, but I trust him not to overstep.” That was the truth of it, really. Finch had almost unending power to watch over his life in every way, but he didn't. “Wouldn't you trust Elias?”

There was a pause before Anthony looked to John, tearing his eyes away from something far on the horizon. “I just didn't think you trusted each other that much,” he answered, leaving John's question unanswered, and yet...

John didn't push. He barely knew the guy, really. He didn't expect Anthony to continue. “Sometimes I wear a piece,” he explained, “most of the time I'm not far enough away to warrant it.” With that, his eyes moved back to scour the city and John observed, silently.

~*~

Harold watched, and learned, as the months went on and Elias drifted in and out of their lives when it seemed necessary to him. He sometimes spent a while tracking them on feeds, curious and desperate to satisfy his mind with an answer. Harold liked to know the whole board, to know where he stood in the world and what was likely to affect how his own operations were to go down.

He had seen Elias and Anthony have coffee together, go for walks, have dinner, and basically all the other general things that he did with John himself. Anthony was a bodyguard and a right-hand, it made sense for them to stick close a lot. Yet it still bugged Harold. It bugged him until he saw it with his own eyes.

It was a brisk December morning with a sharp frost and clear blue skies. Blood stained the snow and smoke curled up to the heavens, a acrid stench in the air. Harold was holed up with John behind a police cruiser, its inhabitants unfortunately victims of the Brotherhood's own brutal enforcement. Finch's ears were still ringing from the blast that had gone off not far away, from the shots that John fired in quick succession to cover Anthony's sprint from the building towards them.

Elias was down. He wasn't incapacitated, but Finch could see him struggling to sit against the next car, a cut bleeding on his head. The explosion had taken them by surprise, going off right beside them. John had managed to cover Harold but Anthony had been separated from Elias. When they had run for cover, Elias had barely managed to crawl behind the cars.

Now Harold watched as Anthony slid on the ice, falling but twisting so he landed behind the car and almost on top of Elias. Then he was on top, shielding with his body as he cradled Elias' head to hold him still, checking his wounds even as bullets whizzed over their heads.

“We gotta move, Finch!” John was yelling over the hail of lead and the cacophony of guns.

“Right, we must,” Harold managed to reply, scrambling into an awkward crouch beside John. Anthony looked over at them having heard John yell, fingers still gently holding his boss' head still. One of Elias' hands was over his, and Harold barely registered the scene in front of him as he tried to formulate a plan.

Anthony managed to get Elias up, supporting him heavily as they made their exit with the aid of backup from the NYPD. They made themselves scarce, hopping into the unassuming town car that Elias and Anthony had originally rolled up in and John taking the wheel. They peeled away and left the scene behind them, the Brotherhood scattering like rats.

Only when they were on their way to safety did Harold turn in his seat to look back to Anthony. He had Elias propped up against him, an arm around his shoulders, and a look like a wolf cornered on his face. “Where do we go?” Harold asked quietly. Anthony seemed to stare for a long time, eyes wide and sharp and blood trickling down from his hairline. He had been close to the blast and was clearly injured, but he didn't even act like he had been grazed.

Harold guessed he was pretty hopped up on adrenaline and waited patiently for his response. John wasn't so patient, barking out from the driver's seat as he took a right. “Anthony! Destination!” That seemed to snap him around, his attention flicking to John.

“Take the next left,” he said quietly.

“I'm fine,” Elias mumbled quietly, but his eyes were foggy and his limbs were limp. Harold had never seen him in such a dire state, considering every situation was usually meticulously controlled.

“Shut up,” Anthony muttered, adjusting to wrap his arm more solidly around his boss. “Keep going straight.”

“How did this even happen?” Harold asked glumly, more to himself than anyone else, as he settled back in his seat. He looked across to John and took in his tight grip on the wheel and the stern look on his face, and briefly wished he could take the tension away. He hated putting John into situations like this. He had hoped the job he had offered would be a little less explosive.

“I don't care,” Anthony said from the back, “whoever was behind it is gonna pay.”

“Brotherhood,” Elias muttered.

“I know, but I'm gonna find who planted that thing-”

“Patience, Anthony.” That was the end of their conversation, the soft tone in Elias' voice seeming to stop Anthony's tirade. They went the rest of the way to the safe-house in silence and John and Harold were sent on their way after they had delivered the mob boss.

~*~

By the time they were cornered by the Brotherhood in a building that was owned by Elias, there was no doubt in Harold's mind. When Elias gave the code, and when they watched the building go up in smoke, Harold felt something tug deep at his heart and tears sting at his eyes. Somehow, their relationship reminded him a lot of himself and John.

The terrifying part was something very similar could happen again.

Elias' eyes never looked the same after that. They lost their glint and Harold could see icy edges eating away at him. He may have been their bad guy, a force they had fought against a lot, but Harold knew love when he saw it. He knew what it looked like when it was snuffed out. He had seen it in the mirror.

Maybe it was the stark reality of life that led Harold to John's apartment at three in the morning, the knowledge that nothing lasted forever and that in an instant you could lose everything you held dear. Maybe it was something more carnal, he didn't know, but his feet had carried him here and now he buzzed, politely, as he waited on the sidewalk with Bear.

John was wearing soft clothes, a light blue tee that hung from his shoulders loosely and grey sweats. “I'm sorry,” Harold started, almost turning to walk away. No, he had to stay. He had come here for a reason. “I didn't mean to wake you, I just... I feel like we have some talking to do.”

Sat on John's sofa, watching John sit on the floor and ruffle Bear's fur, that's when he first really notices it. Or maybe... when he first admits it. He feels it in his heart, in his bones, and he knows exactly why he had walked there that night. “Elias and Anthony, they were... together,” Harold said quietly. John looked up at him, his face a little stern and serious.

“Yeah, I gathered,” he answered.

“That day, of the explosion, I came to realise something,” Harold carried on carefully, hands resting on his knees. “People will always exploit weakness, they'll always find the correct pressure point, and when they press it... you lose things that are very dear to you.” John tilted his head a little and then looked at Bear, watching him chew on a deer antler for a moment before he spoke.

“You didn't come here to talk about someone else's relationship,” he muttered, attention purposefully diverted. Harold let out a long breath and shook his head.

“It happened to me before, and I wouldn't wish for it to happen again,” he explained, “and yet... I also realised that time is so fleeting. We spend all our time making sure others are safe, and happy, and we take so little for ourselves.”

“I'm happy, Finch,” John murmured.

“I don't see how-” Harold started, but then John was looking at him again and that expression was almost staggering. Harold thought maybe he had seen it before, in their moments of high-adrenaline and world-changing decisions, the open, vulnerable look of trust. Trust and something more.

“Things always come and go,” John said, moving closer on the floor until he was sat in front of Harold, looking up into his eyes. “Wouldn't you rather have something and lose it, than never have it at all?” Harold couldn't be sure of the right answer to that. Both hurt, but he supposed he could see John's point.

Without really thinking about it, he lifted a hand to rest it against John's cheek, marvelling at the way he leaned into the touch so eagerly. “I'd rather have you and never lose you,” Harold said quietly, barely audible. A smirk crept onto John's face, tugging at the corners of his lips and crinkling his eyes, and Harold felt like the world had briefly stopped turning.

“I don't think we ever obeyed the rules,” John said, rising up until he was just centimetres from Harold, lips oh-so-close. “We're not gonna lose each other.” With that, the distance between them closed to make way for the gentle press of their mouths. Harold let out a long breath and melted into it.

~*~

Harold and John were there when it happened. A new young rookie in Elias' ranks, one of many after the Brotherhood had taken their blood, came to him with a message, that a man was at the rear exit and refused to leave. After Elias told the young man to use every trick in the book to make the man leave, the rookie said they had all been tried, and this man was absolutely not leaving.

One of the guardsmen stationed at the exit had been kneecapped. Elias finally lost his patience. “Fine, bring him in,” he said, leaning one elbow on the table that was set up between himself and Harold. None of them were really expecting Anthony to be the one to walk into the room, bruised and bloodied but in one piece.

Harold felt the air still, almost second-handedly felt the world stop turning, and also felt a smile creeping onto his own face. He watched as Elias stood, watched them close the distance so fast it was like they had never been apart, and promptly looked away as Elias buried his face against Anthony's shoulder and clung to him so hard, so desperately, that he seemed to fear a vision would soon disappear if he didn't hold on tight.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and firm, and lifted his own to cover John's. Soon he stood, gathered his coat from the back of his seat, and took a tentative step towards the exit with John at his side. “We'll continue our discussion tomorrow,” he said gently. Elias was unmoving and Harold had the suspicion he was crying in the safe shelter of Anthony's shoulder, so it was Anthony himself who offered a nod of acknowledgement.

They had a lot to talk about, and Harold wasn't inclined to intrude. “Come on,” he said quietly to John before starting towards the exit. He and John had a dinner date, anyway.

 


End file.
